


A Night on the Town

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Time, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's caught in the middle. In the good way. This is basically a bunch of cheerful smut. Season Fourish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night on the Town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surreallis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surreallis/gifts).



Jello shots were on special that night at O'Malley's, and she took that as an omen.

The waiter was displaying a tray of them, pimping them at the discount price, and she and the colonel both had one of the samples. Cherry-red was what they grabbed, out of the rainbow the waiter offered, and, whoa, maybe that looked like an omen, too.

Sam grimaced as she downed the sweet gooey slurp, and O'Neill laughed. She set her shot glass on the waiting tray with a gentle thunk.

"Hey, would you have any blue jello in the back?"

"Blue?"

"Yeah, you heard me." She smiled at the waiter. She thought he'd been here the night they'd gotten thrown out; the night of the arm bands. It was a miracle they hadn't been banned from the place after that. General Hammond had made them all come back and formally apologize; otherwise they would have been, she was sure. That had been a hoot; watching O'Neill grovel.

The waiter winked at her. He was cute, if young. "For you, I'll check."

"If you've got blue ones, I can guarantee you'll be selling me some." The waiter nodded emphatically, and headed to the next table with his tray of freebies.

She met O'Neill's eyes, and he was laughing at her again, but in a good way. They turned to their beers. They had snagged one of the tall tables near the pool area, and Daniel and Teal'c were playing now, to the thump of some old R&amp;B on the big speakers.

The sweetened vodka was a nice cold blast in her mouth on top of the beer buzz she'd been enjoying. The nachos and veggies they'd snacked on from the buffet kept her from losing her train of thought, and sooner or later the plan was they'd get around to ordering some steak dinners, continuing to repair their rep at the place by being good, big spending customers tonight, but for now they were doing the unwinding thing. Showing Teal'c some fun. Showing themselves some fun.

She settled into her chair, running her middle finger through the condensation on her half-full glass. O'Neill saw her beer was getting low, and so he picked up the pitcher and topped it up for her. They had been playing doubles, not seeking any competition outside their foursome, until some strange townie had challenged Teal'c. Why he looked like the best victim, Sam was at a loss to explain. To her, he looked scary, like a slumming member of the Dallas Cowboys offensive line in that blue bandana. After the debacle of the pool challenge had run its course, and Teal'c had pocketed quite a lot of folding money, she and O'Neill had retreated to the table, and Teal'c and Daniel had started a new game of eight-ball, just the two of them. Which was when she'd had her attention drawn to the prophetic jello shots. Daniel was holding his own against Teal'c so far. She admired his ass as he rounded the nearest corner of the table, brushing past Teal'c, who was standing with his cue folded between his arms, impassive.

She stole a glance at O'Neill. He was admiring Daniel's ass, too, as Daniel leaned way over, down over the green felt, to line up his potential shot. Daniel looked just a little serious, just a little distracted. He stood up again, adjusted his glasses, and moved around the table the other way, biting his lip, considering a bank shot. Sam smiled. She'd made Daniel into a damn fine pool player over the last three years, if she did say so herself.

"Ma'am?" The waiter was back, breaking her reverie of taut smooth denim and slowly bunching biceps.

She looked up, eyebrows raised. The young man was offering her a tray of all blue jello shots.

"_Oh,_ yeah!" Sam said, and seized four of them, two in each hand, transferring them to the table. She put two in front of the colonel and two in front of herself. Before she could reach for her coat and her pocketbook, O'Neill, with a flick as if dealing cards, had tossed some bills on the tray.

"Thank you, sir," she said to him, "and thank _you_," she gushed at the waiter, who clicked his heels and bowed, mission accomplished, another customer with a favorite drink to indulge in, and went on his merry way. She tossed back a blue shot, resolving to save the other one for Daniel.

"What is it about you and blue jello?" O'Neill said, twinkling at her.

"It's just ... different."

"And different is good."

She didn't have to answer that; simply nodded. He picked up one of the shots she'd put in front of him and toasted her. His brown gaze was only normal-intense, bearable, not the flirting-intense that she sometimes got from him, which was the kind of intense that made her knees mushy and her heart speedy. He tossed back the shot, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed. He licked his lips -- did he not KNOW how sexy that was? Was the man STUPID? -- and shook his head.

"Carter, blue jello is not different. It's just, plain, wrong."

"Wrong is as wrong does, sir," she said, laughing again. And she made him laugh with the stupid blurty Gump quote, and he picked up his beer and sipped it, apparently wanting to kill the taste of blue. She watched his eyelashes and his cheekbones and the way his bottom lip curved to meet the glass.

She went on, "If you can like Froot Loops, I can like blue jello."

"Point to you," he said, and there was the half smile, the camaraderie, and this was the guy she forgot was her C.O.; this was the guy she wanted to call "Jack" and hug and pummel and twirl around and go fishing with, should he ever invite her again. They grinned, there over the bar table, across from each other, and the connection, the bond, she felt was so real. She tilted her head back, letting her hair brush her nape, and closed her eyes and just enjoyed the moment, a moment suspended in time, luminous, vivid, the heavy old blues bouncing through the air all around them, the twinkling lights in the little silly fichus trees, the cool breeziness of the air conditioning -- a good night, a fun night, a night to remember.

It was like this in the field all the time, but much rarer at home -- this feeling that they were in synch, communicating perfectly, so perfectly they might as well be telepathic.

"Guys!" Daniel arrived at the table, still holding his pool cue, his arms outstretched. "I sank a double and you missed it? You weren't even looking?"

"I have a great excuse," Sam said, indicating the table.

"Oh, well, then, that explains it." Daniel took up the vodka shot she'd saved for him and tossed it back. "Blue jello trumps everything." He slammed the empty glass upside down on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Blue jello is just somehow so wrong, Sam. Can't you convert her to, I don't know, cherry? Jack? _Something_ else."

"Believe me, Daniel, I've tried." Jack waved his hands, expressing his helplessness in the face of Carter's obsession, and Daniel, happy, focused on his game, turned without another glance at them and strode back to the pool table. Sam giggled, noting that Daniel when tipsy revealed an ever so slight, yet unmistakable, rather dignified, touch of swish.

Teal'c, having sunk his shot after Daniel's double and subsequent miss, was methodically lining up for another. Sam took inventory of the table, and realized it was all over for Daniel.

"Teal'c's going to run it from here," she observed.

"Yup," the colonel said. She followed his line of sight to Daniel's ass again. She narrowed her eyes at O'Neill. She was going for it. Right now. Was it the jello? Was it the lingering buzz of their recent successful mission? Was it the moon? Was it his eyes, so full of relaxed laughter tonight?

She leaned in.

"You don't have to choose between us, you know," she said, as if it were part of a normal conversation they'd just been having.

"I beg your pardon?" He was startled; not acting startled. Really startled.

"I mean Daniel and me." She assessed the way he was now staring at her. He wasn't impassive and dead-eyed -- his look that meant she'd crossed a line in a bad way. He simply looked incredulous -- eyebrows up, palms flat on the table. She regarded him steadily and tried not to smile. She folded her arms, smearing the puddle from Daniel's upside-down shotglass with her bare elbow. She was wearing a tank top tonight; her leather coat was over the back of what had become Daniel's chair. She went on, "You don't. Really. If that's what's keeping you from making a move on one of us -- concern for the other one, or not being able to choose. Maybe it's the frat regs, maybe it's something else, I don't know, but if it's just not wanting to choose between us, you don't have to let that stop you."

"And you know this how?" he said. She grinned. Maybe he didn't realize, floating in the confidence of the friendly night, in the matrix of their synched-up communication, and of course in the glow of the two jello shots on top of the beers he'd already downed, Teal'c being the designated driver tonight, that he'd skipped several steps which maybe he wouldn't have skipped if they'd been having this conversation in other circumstances. She loved that. It meant she was indeed as far inside his head as she'd figured, as she'd hoped. And that Daniel was, too.

But as soon as the question was out of his mouth he backpedaled, realizing that maybe he'd given away a little too much.

"I can't believe I --Look, Car--"

She so didn't intend to let him worry. Even bolder, now, she reached out and put her hand over his. As she'd hoped, her touch stopped his words. His hand was warm and surprisingly soft. "Because I talked to him about it, a long time ago."

"You're kidding." He still looked stunned. Pretty soon his forehead would permanently wrinkle. She grinned.

"Nope," she answered, and squeezed his hand and turned away. She brought her beer to her lips and looked again at the game of pool. Teal'c, who had attracted an audience, was indeed running the table. Ha! She could reconstruct Daniel's whispered protests -- some of them apparently in Chulaki -- at getting his ass kicked like that, without even having to hear them. She could see Teal'c's smug smile, only intermittently directed toward Daniel, which needed no interpretation.

~~~

_Yeah, she'd asked Daniel about it. A while back. After they lost Sha're forever, after he'd sort of gotten his feet back on the ground, begun to heal. He'd seemed less distracted, more grounded, after Sha're's funeral. Quieter, more interior, sadder, but at peace, somehow, knowing that her suffering was over. Sam had tried to stick pretty close to him during their down time, in the months that followed Sha're's death. They'd gotten into some good habits back then; exercising together, doing geek stuff that bored O'Neill, like rummaging in museums and going to the university library. _

The conversation she was remembering had happened on a weekend, probably about a year after Sha're had been killed, and they'd been walking in the park near her house, just walking. Chatting about radiocarbon dating, if her memory was correct.

She just spoke up, just blurted it out, and it was a non sequitur, but only on the surface. No expressed thought, with Daniel, could ever be a complete non sequitur. She'd learned that long ago -- how they could jump the tracks together, just go off. Hell, they could lay track when necessary; manufacture it! They were very good at thinking together, she and Daniel.

"You know," she'd said, scuffing the gravel path, her hands in her jeans pockets, "I don't think the Air Force frat regs were ever intended to cover something like what we're doing, the four of us."

"Really," Daniel said, noncommittal.

"I know how he feels about you. And I know how he feels about me," she said. They walked along silently, for a dozen beats of their hearts.

"And this is not eventually going to be a problem how?" Daniel said. He wasn't looking at her. His voice was a little sharp, but she loved the directness, the immediacy, of the question. His audible validation of their trust. One more link in the chain. One more unbreakable, indestructible link.

"Because we'll make it not. One day maybe we'll -- get to tell him, or show him, how it's not a problem. Not for you, not for me, not for the team, not for the chain of command."

"You're sure about that." She stopped and turned to him. She still had her hands in her pockets. Curious how she didn't even have to touch him to feel everything they were feeling. He stopped when she did. Their eyes met. He looked very serious.

"Aren't you?" she said.

He smiled, just a tiny, trusting smile, and turned and started walking again.

~~~

O'Neill frowned. "You realize you're way out of line with this."

She set her beer down, deliberately, without hurry. She swiveled her chair to face him, and tilted her head. "Am I?" O'Neill just looked at her, as if at a loss for words.

And then, Daniel was there, at her right, reaching out with his cue and tapping her arm with it. "I withdraw in defeat, bloody but unbowed, and I thus concede the field to you, my lady."

She winked at O'Neill, and stood up and took the cue, twirled it between her palms, double-checking that it was straight, though Daniel had probably picked a good one. She looked over at Teal'c. He was already racking the balls.

"Ran the table on you, did he?" she said to Daniel.

"Again!" Daniel said, disgusted, settling into her chair, resting his elbows on the arms and linking his fingers across his belly. He had that disheveled look he always got when he had had a little too much to drink, though really, there was nothing to dishevel; his haircut was very short and he was wearing a sleek, long-sleeved tshirt.

She said, "All right, then. You take over here, okay? I was just talking the colonel into a threesome."

She went to Teal'c, asking, "Winner breaks, right?" and not looking back to see their expressions as they stared at each other. She could imagine their faces just fine.

~~~

_"How was she doing with that, Jack?" _

"Not so fucking well. Are you out of your minds?"

"Well, I haven't talked about this with her lately, but I'd have to say, no."

"... No. No? That's all you've got? No?"

"No."

"... Not out of your minds."

"No."

"... Exactly how many of those jello shots have you downed, Daniel?"

~~~

A pretty close to perfect steak dinner, and innumerable games of pool later, Sam scrunched between the front seats of O'Neill's big truck to hug him and Teal'c both goodnight. There was nothing very different about the colonel's usual team-night hug, she noted, which was a positive sign, she supposed.

It had been a thoroughly wonderful night, and she was happy. They'd had a blast, and she'd gotten her information opportunistically conveyed to O'Neill, and that was A Good Thing. She would see, someday, what fruit it bore, if any.

Daniel, also as usual, got out with her and escorted her up to her door. He hugged her, as usual, but this time he surprised her by also giving her a friendly kiss, right on the mouth, right there under the porch light, where O'Neill and Teal'c could see it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and enjoyed the kiss -- in fact, tacked a bit onto the end of it when he was starting to signal it was over.

Then she smiled into his eyes. His thumb was resting on the strip of skin between her shirt and her jeans, right next to her spine, where her leather jacket had ridden up. She asked, "Was that for the benefit of the studio audience?"

"Yes. If you like?"

"Showing off the merchandise? Like a free sample?"

Daniel laughed silently, his shoulders shaking, and patted her. "Let me see you unlock the door."

She smiled at him, obediently getting out her keys and opening the house. The security system beeped at her, and Daniel, satisfied of her safety, turned to go down her steps and out to the truck, shoving his hands in his pants pockets as he went. It was sweet, how they treated her with such chivalry.

She could still feel his skin against hers. She put her finger tips against her lips and went into the familiar dark.

~~~

She had just fallen asleep, damp and warm from the shower, when her cell phone chirped.

"Yeah," she said, muzzy and fumbling.

"Heads up." It was Daniel's voice. "No emergency, though."

"Um, okay," she said. It was hard to wake up, but she was trying. Sometimes she woke, after all this time, out of one of Jolinar's dreams, not her own, and that made her doubly disoriented.

"It'll be us, not burglars, okay?" Daniel's voice. Daniel's voice put her in the present, helped her remember. Jello shots. A night on the town. Pool.

"Okay, yeah."

He hung up.

She lay there, the phone cupped in her palm, still in the lethargic grip of sleep, still a little fuzzy from the vodka and from the tentacles of the strangely vivid dream. They were coming back. They'd dropped Teal'c off at the mountain and they were coming back. Now; tonight.

Her mind was racing, even as her body took a few more minutes to collect itself. She lay there, listening to the night noises of the house, in an ecstasy of waiting. The time ticked away. Finally, she heard a key in the front door, heard the beeping, heard it cut off as one of them punched in her code. They were bickering quietly; something about the geometry of billiards, it sounded like.

She waited. Footsteps in the dark hall. Their voices trailed off, and they were silent. The squeak of another door, a triangle of light on the bedroom floor. The sound of water hitting tile. She breathed, in and out, once, carefully. She swung her feet to the floor, got up and slowly, slowly went to the open bathroom door.

Daniel's glasses were on the sink, the mirror above them already steaming up again. His jeans and shirt were on the floor. He'd left the sliding door of the shower partly open. O'Neill stood before her, folding his shirt, adding it to the top of the pile of his own clothes, stacked tidily on the toilet lid. He straightened and turned to meet her eyes. He was smiling slightly. He was naked. He took off his watch and added it to the pile of clothes. He was half hard. She bit her lip and held tighter to the door jamb.

He came to her and reached out, held her face in his hands, and she put her hands over his. Slowly, he pressed himself close against her and kissed her. She was dizzy. She tilted her head and opened her mouth and he grunted approval, and the kiss got deep and intense immediately. His chest hair was tickling her, his hard dick was sliding against the satin of her short nightgown. She moved a hand to his shoulder and held on. He still tasted like beer. He tasted wonderful.

He backed away one step, and his smile was gone, but he looked intent. She glanced past him, and Daniel was leaning out, looking at them and grinning in that way that made him look like a teenager, his hair wet and spiky. Then he backed up, and O'Neill stepped into the shower with him. She leaned against the doorway again, breathless, dizzy, and watched them through the glass. They were scrubbing each other quickly. This was ... surreal. Hot. So surprising, and the surprise itself was part of the arousal. They were quietly muttering again.

"Here."

"You want..."

"Oh. Nice."

Hands over skin. Bodies pressing, almost like a slow dance. Sounds of water, small, casual sounds of satisfaction, not building toward anything. Not yet. Sounds of kissing.

They moved apart. They were washing, mostly. Now Daniel had her shampoo bottle. "You want this?"

"Might as well."

Then they were washing their hair, which, of course, didn't take long. Daniel was leaning his front against O'Neill's back now. Occasionally an elbow bumped the glass. White foam poured down O'Neill's body as he rinsed, and she watched as Daniel wiped soap from his eyes and ... touched. Daniel ran his hand down O'Neill's side, cupped the hip bone for a moment, reached for O'Neill's erection. O'Neill kept rinsing his hair, but he had to lean forward, supporting himself with one hand. She heard his surprised grunt. They were still, the sound of water echoing. The water ran clear again. O'Neill stroked down Daniel's arm, and Daniel pulled his hand away and O'Neill slid the door open and stepped out, dripping all over Daniel's clothes. He reached for a towel, but she went to him and wrapped her arms around him before he could get very far with drying off. She pressed against him, steadier on her feet now, and kissed him and felt for him one handed, pressing her mound against his thigh.

He tasted of soap, and the fruity shampoo she always bought. His erection was hot and big in her hand. He was kissing her back, messily, enthusiastically. The water in the shower shut off.

"You're gonna get your nightie all wet," O'Neill said to her, between kisses, breathless. She didn't bother to answer. Daniel's arms came around them both. He was warm, too, but scrubbed dry. He kissed her ear, her jaw. His erection squashed itself against her ass. O'Neill stopped kissing her and turned his head, and Daniel's arms got tighter, suddenly. A lot tighter. She rested her cheek on O'Neill's collarbone and closed her eyes. She eased a hand up to gently pull on the towel O'Neill had started to use, and he and Daniel kissed and kissed over her shoulder while she wiped water from his back.

She was getting a jumbled kaleidoscope of images of what might happen next, disjointed pictures from many perspectives, skin and limbs and lips, and she was already so wet with it. Their kissing came to a halt and Daniel let go enough that she could ease a little away and finish mopping water from O'Neill's face and shoulders. He had a hand on Daniel's shoulder. He glanced her way and reached for the towel. Daniel was smiling at her, and he bunched the soaked satin of her nightgown in his fists and stripped it up. She raised her hands over her head and let him do it. While her eyes were hidden, she felt O'Neill's hands, gently pulling at elastic, pulling down her panties.

Her things joined O'Neill's wet towel and Daniel's ruined clothes on the floor. She closed her eyes again and pressed forward, warm skin, strong arms, holding her close.

They'd come to her. They were here. Together. Even though it was real, it was happening, she couldn't believe it. She hadn't expected this, not so soon, not tonight. They were both kissing her, gentle presses of lips to her brow, her cheekbone, her mouth.

"Come on," Daniel said, and he led the way, with a little stumbling, a little tripping because there were too many feet and too many bodies wedged at once into her narrow hall, because no one wanted to let go this soon after taking hold.

One, two, three, into the not-quite-big-enough bed, and it was an accident, she felt, that she was in the middle. The light from the bathroom was still on, and she could see everything clearly, and all of a sudden it felt awkward and she didn't know what to do, what she wanted, what they wanted. She was a little damp from their shower, and her skin felt so exposed. She shivered. She took a deep breath and met O'Neill's eyes, and found them full of wondering, grateful kindness. She felt Daniel's hand on her back.

O'Neill seemed to have found all the pushiness that she now lacked, all the boldness and bravery that had worn off, for her, with the vodka. She was sitting there between them, and he was stroking her breasts with an open admiration that surprised her, and she smiled to herself and realized that, duh, of course that was going to be one of the attractions of the evening for him. His fingertips on a nipple made her shiver, then, and she saw him smile. Daniel was watching Jack, and had reached across her to cup his shoulder. Daniel was warm against her side. She tried to relax, leaning against Daniel and putting an arm around O'Neill, around _Jack,_ she realized she could say, now, and found Daniel's hand.

They were easing closer, cuddling up to her, and the awkwardness waned a little for her, because it was them, just them, after all, and sure, she'd wanted this and pushed for it and invited it but now, if she were honest, she didn't really think it had been all that probable that she'd actually _get_ it.

Jack was moving his hand over her skin in wide, slow sweeps. He looked at Daniel for a moment, and then tilted his head and kissed Sam, tasting, exploring. Her heart skipped and settled, beating faster. He pulled away slowly, holding her gaze, and seemed to savor the taste of her for a moment, and then he leaned over and kissed Daniel. She was too close to see any of it, and so she leaned her head against him and blissed out for a moment on the feel of their hands on her. Daniel murmured, low and contented. He squeezed her shoulder.

Jack leaned back, looked at him, looked at her, a sweeping gaze. "It's just so _complicated,_" he said, and he shrugged as if in confusion, but his voice was smiling.

Daniel contradicted, "Not complicated. Busy," and she could hear the laughter in his voice, too.

Jack said, "I just, I just don't know what to do next, or first, even."

Followed an indeterminate time when there was a surfeit of stroking, the slide of palms across skin, the transient push of a thigh between thighs, the damp insistence of cock against thigh or lower back or belly. Once Sam halted everything, stilled her hands, her thoughts, transfixed by the new, strange, and incredibly arousing view of Daniel and Jack, kissing, distracted by each other, arrested as they had been rearranging their legs with hers. First their mouths were hesitant, then intent, then greedy. They were backlit against her bedroom doorway.

And a little later, she was caught, dry mouthed, surprised, forced into an involuntary writhe, forced to squeeze her thighs together because of how it felt to be between them, an erection in each hand.

They were gorgeous -- warm skin and firm muscle, Daniel so smooth, Jack peppered with hair, all the various textures and tastes. Her mouth watered. She couldn't get enough of touching them, or of feeling their mouths on her nipples, their hands along her spine, on her throat.

She was so aroused and needy by the time Jack's fingers finally, softly, crept through her fur, to the wetness between her legs, a gentle exploration carried out under Daniel's interested stare, that a moan was wrenched out of her and her hand tightened, jerking Daniel's arm, her nails digging in. He winced.

"Sorry," she gasped. "I just-- I--"

"Shh," Jack said, smiling, and covered her mouth with his, and she was so wet, so wet. He tickled with a fingertip, and Daniel palmed her nipple and that did it. She pulsed against Jack's finger and he smiled against her mouth and pressed, keeping his hand still, and how did he know? How did he know how to do that? Just like that....

She came, and came, panting, and he lifted his mouth away from hers to give her some air, and she clutched at them until she could catch her breath.

"Beautiful," Daniel said, and Sam lolled her head against Jack's stomach and watched as Jack hooked his free hand around Daniel's nape and brought their heads together. They were both flushed. They didn't kiss, though. They were looking at her, raking her with their eyes, both of them. It made her smile and she found her hands would work again and so she turned them over, finding skin under her palms again, Jack's and Daniel's. She turned her head, and Jack's dick was right there, leaking, so full and hard. She thought about licking it, tasting that, because clearly they were about to get through the foreplay part to the sex part. She wondered, through the muzzy pleasure of the backside of her orgasm, what exactly they would do; how exactly the men would want to get off in their turn. It made her hips twitch again. If they would both fuck her, if they would suck each other, if ...

Daniel was speaking softly, and she watched his mouth. He reached as he spoke and covered Jack's hand where it was still resting, cupping her mound. He was talking to Jack, she thought.

"Did you ever have it like this before? With more than one person at a time?"

"No." The pressure of both their hands was delicious, adding to the afterglow, making her feel like stretching, catlike, and then Jack eased his hand from under Daniel's and petted her, ran his hand along her hip and groin, firmly, like a gentle massage. Then Daniel began to mirror what he was doing, squeezing and petting her in tandem with Jack. She moaned a little, making them smile even as they continued to talk. "And you should know -- never with a guy before, either."

That made Sam look up at him in wonder. But Jack didn't look as if he was making some kind of revelatory admission. Daniel just nodded, like it was what he was expecting, and then caught her glance expectantly.

She said, "No orgies for me, either, Daniel, but I'm now suspecting you've been here before."

Daniel moved both his hands now, broad sweeps, watching his hands and not their faces as he petted them. "Let's just say I'm surprised I passed that first background check."

"Daniel. You child of the sixties...." Jack's tone was chidingly affectionate, and Sam was pretty sure he had more to say than that, but Daniel was kissing him again, and then leaning over to kiss Sam. She let go of Jack and sat up straighter and kissed Daniel, reveled in it, so different from Jack's kisses, his mouth firmer, a whole different feel, a different shape.

"This is too good to be true," she said, and O'Neill chimed in from behind her, "And we've barely gotten started yet." Sam grinned.

Daniel had gone all serious, and there was something in his eyes now that she'd never seen before, a hunger that made arousal start to tiptoe its way through her gut again.

"I want to see you together. I want to watch that," he said, quietly, almost matter of factly. Jack's hands on her hips tightened, and she felt his dick twitch, once, against her hip.

Jack inhaled, and let it out slowly. "Come here, then, baby," he said.

She closed her eyes, amazed at the stab of emotion that went through her, to hear him call her that, a sweet, sweet name like that, after years of nothing but "Carter." She leaned back and lay down, never taking her hand from Daniel's skin until he turned away, toward the bedside table. She knew immediately what he was thinking.

"Second drawer," she said, and he reached further and she heard the slide of the drawer, and he came up with the condoms.

_Oh my god,_ she thought, as Jack sat up to take them from Daniel and tear one off. Once again the sheer physical immediacy of it crashed down on her -- the heat of them, the smell of them, her shampoo and their skin and their musk, new sweat coming through the soap, the intimate scents of their bodies, breath and warmth and the press of their hands. She drifted, waiting, part of her wanting to watch, to _see_ how they accomplished the little chore of rolling on a rubber, wondering if they were helping each other, wondering how that would be, but somehow it was too much. It was overwhelming. Sam scrubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, and then opened them when she felt a lean body easing over her.

"You still okay?" Jack asked her, with a new tenderness.

She smiled shakily, and nodded, and opened her legs, nudging under his, sliding her hands behind his neck. She felt Daniel, hovering near. She looked into Jack's eyes.

"Pretty traditional position you've chosen, there, for an orgy," she said, and her breath caught and she stumbled over the words, because he leaned on one arm and guided himself into her, mid-sentence. She closed her eyes and arched -- _so good, so good, so right, it fit, it fit...._ She heard Daniel's quick intake of breath and felt Jack drop his head, brushing her forehead.

Jack said, and his voice was strained, "Well, I'm a traditional guy."

"Ah," was all she could say then, and all she said, in several variations, for some time. Her skin felt sensitized, as if she was glowing all over. He nuzzled her, still holding that first push, and she could feel him breathing hard. He was so warm. His belly was pressed against hers. He turned his head and Daniel kissed him, and then moved in under Jack to kiss her. She whimpered into his mouth, because that was when Jack began to move, pulling back slowly, slowly, and then pushing in again.

Daniel got out of the way, but kept his hands on them, and Jack stroked into her, covered her, took her, moved her and moved with her. It all got incoherent and confused again, all floaty and dark and close. She was so aware of Daniel, felt the outline of all his fingers as he touched her, felt him shift and press himself against them. His cock was leaking against her thigh.

She held on tight to Jack's shoulders, losing track of everything but the feel of their skin, the warmth of their breath. When Jack came, he buried his face in her shoulder and groaned aloud.

"Oh, my god, oh my god," Daniel was saying, and Sam choked on a sob and came again, too, just a small burst, almost a sympathetic orgasm, sparked by Jack's pulsing pressure against her. She could feel him finishing, feel him straining against her. She stroked his back, her hands colliding with Daniel's, and when she felt him start to relax she unhooked her ankles from his knees. He leaned on one arm and pulled out of her, slowly, holding on to the rubber. She was reluctant to let him go. He looked stunned. He looked raw and surprised and more gorgeous than ever. Then Daniel was sitting up, kissing him, seizing his shoulders and turning Jack to him. Jack yelped a little in surprise, and Sam had to smile, too. Daniel was flushed, greedy, kissing Jack messily, lots of tongue, and Sam tugged on his arm and tugged him away from Jack and down to her. He put a hand to her cheek and pressed in between her legs. She closed her eyes again and held him tight as he kissed her, too, with the same urgency, and slid into her.

So different; so the same. He was wider through the torso than Jack, heavier in the hips, and the down on his legs wasn't wiry, and he was eager and so hot, so ready. His face was in her shoulder and she could feel that he was biting his lip. She scratched his back, gently, making him flinch and moan. He moved slowly, holding back. She squeezed him, and he flinched again.

They were both a little noisy, she realized, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Daniel was calling her name, only quieting when he would lean on his elbows because Jack had taken his chin and turned his head aside to kiss him. Sam was lost again, swept away again, pushing herself up and up, feeling him inside her, urging him to make it harder, faster. He held her tight and let her urge him on, pushed back solidly when she slammed him with her hips. She came from that, pounding her fists on his shoulders, groaning, and when she opened her eyes she was surprised to see him grinning at her, having somehow collected himself to hang on through her climax without coming. She grinned back, and held him tight as he started to move again. After a breathless, blurry time, she opened her eyes to see them kissing again. Daniel had raised himself on his arms.

"Oh," Sam said, knocked back, all over again, by how that looked, how surprising and beautiful it was. She let go of Daniel and reached up with both hands, stroking their faces, their lips, and they turned and kissed her fingers. She shook her head in wonder. She thought she might cry.

Then Jack was tugging on Daniel's arm, at the same time leaning in to her, licking her mouth intently. Daniel slowed, then pressed languidly into her one last time, rolling his hips a little. She moaned into Jack's mouth. Daniel slid back and away, slowly, slowly. She jolted, shivering, as he pulled out. When Jack took his mouth away he was smiling, and then he looked at Daniel. They had been planning something that she'd missed, lost in the feel of Daniel inside her, and now there was more shifting and moving. She turned, pressing against Daniel's back, him between her and Jack now, and Jack leaned up on one elbow. She watched, pressing her crotch against the swell of Daniel's buttocks. Jack quickly stripped away the rubber, so that he could finish Daniel with his hand. She caught her breath at the porn-movie rawness of it -- Daniel letting Jack jerk him, trusting, reaching up and back to clutch her shoulder, opening his knees, letting his head fall, closing his eyes. Jack, watching his hand on Daniel's dick, stripped it slowly, then sped up. He was intent, his tongue caught between his lips.

Sam watched, rubbing herself against Daniel, until he jerked and moaned and came in intense spurts, splashing his own stomach and Jack's thigh.

"God," she murmured, as Daniel's hand spasmed on her shoulder, and Jack, his eyes closed, sought her mouth. Daniel was breathing hard, and as they kissed she heard him slowly calm. When she pulled away and looked between them again, Daniel had wrapped his hand around Jack's, both of them still holding Daniel's dick.

"Oh my god," Sam said, again, and let herself collapse onto the pillow, still pressing herself against Daniel's back. She felt Jack brush another kiss on her temple, heard him kiss Daniel. Her pounding heart slowed, and she fancied if she listened hard she would hear theirs, too.

After a while, Daniel started to sit up, muttering something about the mess they'd made, and Sam said, "Don't worry about it, leave it," and so he groaned again, in contentment this time, and flopped back down. He adjusted himself against her, reaching back and cupping her thigh, pulling it tight against his, and she felt Jack pull the covers over their legs and then settle a hand at her waist. Sam felt sated, used, delighted, and yet oddly alert. And they were, too, not seeming to want to roll over and snore like men often did in the energy ebb that followed orgasm. She pressed her lips to Daniel's shoulder blade, making him murmur contentedly, and reached to find Jack's ribs.

Jack cleared his throat. _What the fuck? Jack was going to say something?_ She snuggled in a little further, nuzzling Daniel's neck, wondering what Jack would come up with.

"That was nice," Jack said, and Daniel chuckled. She smiled at how it felt, quivering against her stomach. He was so _warm._ "Different."

Daniel said, and his voice was a new, throaty purr that Sam could so get used to loving the sound of, "No, Jack, blue jello is different. That was fucking incredible."

"Incredible fucking," Sam said, giggling outright.

"Why thank you," Jack said, and squeezed her waist. She felt Daniel move his head and then she heard them kissing. It was a wonderful sound, a happy sound. She squeezed Daniel tighter.

She said, "Guys, really. I think we're okay. I don't think we have to talk this to death."

"I wasn't," Jack said, sounding aggrieved.

"It's not you I'm worried about," she said, and Daniel slapped her gently. "Ouch," she said, not meaning it.

"You know we'll have to talk some more eventually," Daniel said, settling against her again, wiggling his butt a little.

"But not tonight," Sam said, and paused. Then, "I want you to stay." She felt them listening, felt their wariness. Yeah, maybe it was crazy. Maybe she should be worried about surveillance, about Jack's truck outside, about bed hair and bad breath and did she have any extra toothbrushes. But mostly she just wanted them to stay; wanted deeply, urgently, to wake up and find them still here, still wrapped around her and around each other in her crowded bed. She wheedled a little. "I have stuff for pancakes. Eggs. Kona coffee."

"Okay, staying can be arranged," Daniel said, "can't it?" And Jack said, "Mm, but no Froot Loops?" and tugged the covers a little higher.

end


End file.
